


War And Whiskey

by this_wayward_life



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Asshole BMoL, Death, Fluff, Hamilton AU, Human AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, Overprotective Big Brother Dean, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smut, War, lots of death, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_wayward_life/pseuds/this_wayward_life
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester have been prisoners for their whole lives, but when they manage to sneak onto a slave ship and escape the British Men Of Letters, they finally think their life is taking a turn for the better. A revolution is happening to overthrow Britain, and with the help of an unruly bunch of rebels, the brothers might be able to bring justice to the Men Of Letters.





	1. New York And Renegades

The slave ship was by far the most disgusting place Sam had ever been, and he'd been in a lot of disgusting places.

Dark shapes huddled in the corners of the tiny room he was in, terrified eyes staring back at him. The floor was covered with faeces and blood, and Sam thought there was a body somewhere. Diseases were everywhere, at least half the boat already dead from scurvy, typhoid or smallpox. The British Men Of Letters should at least _try_ to keep things hygienic, but _no._ They just needed to keep the slaves in horrific conditions, and Sam knew that if this was the old world, it would be violating at least half of basic human rights. But unfortunately, ever since those tea-drinking assholes somehow got control of everything ever, it was a dictatorship. Britain was the dictator, and the rest of the world was just unfortunate enough to get in their way. 

There was another jolt that went through the boat, and water started to leak through the cracks in the floor. One of the half-dead slaves stumbled over and used her ragged clothing to try and stuff the crack closed, coughing harshly into her elbow as she did so. Nobody moved to help her. They were either in worse shape than her or were too scared to help in case they got whichever disease she carried.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts by an elbow jabbing into his side and jumped around to glare daggers at the perpetrator. His older brother Dean rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

"No need to have such an overreaction, Drama Queen," he huffed, scratching at his hair. "We're probably almost there. We've been in this boat for what, three weeks now?"

"Three and a half," Sam replied wearily. "I think we got led off course."

"Yeah no shit," Dean said, rolling his eyes again. It was one of his favourite things to do. "If my calculations are correct-"

"Since when did you give a shit about calculations?"

"Since we got on a boat where the only thing to do was pray that we didn't get a disease," Dean snapped. "Anyway, if I'm right, we'll be at dry land in the next few days."

"Do you know exactly where that is?"

"No."

"How reassuring," Sam muttered, turning his attention back to the woman, who had collapsed, her body now becoming the plug for the leakage. "I just don't think I'll be able to survive this place any longer. It smells like death and shit."

"Can't argue with that."

It was quiet for a few hours, the only sounds being the hushed whispers of the other poor people being shipped off and the sloshing of water outside the boat. The woman hadn't gotten up. Sam thought she was dead.

"What do we do when we land?" Sam asked suddenly. Dean looked over at him, eyes half-closed.

"Get a job, I guess," he said sleepily. "We can live off the streets, easy. Or, if worst comes to worst, we can always just run away to the woods and live out there."

"I'm not going to become an urban legend," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "I wanna bring down the British. I've heard there's a revolution happening in some parts of the world."

"And who told you that?" Dean asked curiously.

"Nobody. I found out."

"How, exactly?"

"I listen to the guards outside my cell. I get all the latest gossip from them," Sam replied. "Did you know that Arthur was cheating on Deborah with Stacey?"

"I can't believe I talk to you," Dean muttered. Sam snickered and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. Dean closed his eyes and slid down the wall, starting to let out short snoring sounds almost immediately. Even though Sam had known him all his life, he still couldn't figure out how Dean managed to fall asleep so quickly. Deciding that the only thing left to do was follow Dean's lead, Sam shuffled into a comfortable position and closed his eyes, drifting into a light slumber.

 

 

When Sam awoke, he felt considerably different. The room around him wasn't rocking, there weren't many people in the room, and Dean was shaking him awake looking like a little kid at Christmas.

"Sammy, we're here," Dean said quietly, trying to contain his excitement. "We've reached dry land."

Sam shot to his feet, grabbing the tiny suitcase he brought with him and following Dean out the back of the ship, making sure not to be seen by any crew members. The place they'd landed was very big - skyscrapers lived up to their name in this city, and there were people going about their merry business around them.

"Where are we?" Dean asked in awe, looking around in a daze. Sam scanned the skyline, hoping there was something that could tell him exactly where they were. The answer came in the form of a massive green statue, staring over the city with a knowing look in her eyes.

"We're in New York City," Sam said numbly, and Dean looked over at him.

"New York City? Like, _the_ New York City?"

"Yes, Dean, _the_ New York City," Sam said, trying not to laugh. Dean shot him a dirty look and started moving through the crowds, muttering something about stupid little brothers. Sam just rolled his eyes and followed his older brother through the streets of New York City.

"So, where's our first stop in this lovely place?" Sam asked. 

"First we need money," Dean said firmly. "Before the British found us, Dad taught me how to get cash off hustling pool."

"Right, and how old were you then?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Six. And you're bloody lucky I still remember," Dean said, slapping Sam on the back of the head. Sam winced but took some pleasure in noticing that Dean had to go on his toes to reach.

"Okay, okay. So we find the nearest bar, get some cash, and then find some food," Sam suggested.

"Pie," Dean said immediately. 

"We'll need to get the cash first," Sam reminded him.

"Easy. You can pass for twenty-one, and I just turned twenty-three," Dean said, looking proud.

"Yes, congratulations on that," Sam deadpanned. "Seriously, it's not as if I haven't been through worse."

"We don't talk about that," Dean growled. Sam held up his hands in surrender, knowing that Dean would just get shitty if the conversation kept going in the direction that it was currently travelling in. The two of them walked in silence for a while, finally finding a bar called, surprisingly, The Bar. 

"These New Yorkers are very imaginative, aren't they?" Sam muttered. Dean snorted in amusement as they pushed the door open, seeing a bunch of idiots at the pool table and a group sitting in the corner, as well as a bunch of middle-aged men at the bar trying to pick up the young bartender.

"Cozy," Dean muttered, making his way over to an unoccupied table and sitting down, motioning to the bartender for a drink.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam hissed. "We don't have the money."

"Hey, I need at least one drink before hustling," Dean said defensively. "I'll pay at the end."

Sam would have argued more, but a waitress wearing a very short skirt sashayed up to them to take their order. Dean, obviously, flirted with her the entire way through, and Sam noticed the waitress slip something to Dean before she walked away. He managed to get a look and snorted.

"She gave you her address? Wow."

"Hey, she digged me," Dean argued, crumpling up the paper and shoving it in his pocket. "It's not like I'm actually going to go there."

"Mhmm," Sam said, unimpressed. Dean cast a look over at the pool table before downing the shot the waitress had put in front of him.

"Wish me luck," Dean said, winking at Sam before sliding out of his seat and drunkenly staggering over to the pool table. Sam had to admit, he was good at acting.

Deciding not to watch Dean be a complete idiot, Sam scanned the bar instead. The guys at the pool table were dumbasses - no need to look at them. They were probably the kind of people who thought that people who were different than them deserved to be treated like scum. Then there were the male cougars at the bar, harassing the poor girl who was trying to just wipe glasses. Sam felt his fists tighten, and couldn't stop himself from standing up and walking over to the bar, leaning against it next to the men.

"Excuse me, miss?" Sam asked politely, drawing the young woman's attention. "Are these men bothering you at all?"

The girl looked down at her hands, looking ashamed. The men drew their attention towards Sam, and the one who obviously led the group stood up.

"What's it to you, kid?" he gurgled, the alcohol on his breath reaching Sam and making him grimace in disgust.

"Oh nothing, sir," Sam said, giving the man a charming smile. "I just don't like to see women being mistreated. And I believe you're harassing this poor lady."

"It's not harassment," the man growled. "She's worthless. She doesn't deserve a say in anything."

Sam gave another smile, stepping towards the man. "I _really_ don't want things to get out of hand here. How about you back off, and keep your filthy paws off young girls?"

The man quivered but still managed to look Sam right in the eye. "I'll do what I want, _boy._ "

In the space of about half a second, the man was lying on the ground, moaning in pain. Sam just stood there, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels with his hands in his pockets. The girl on the other side of the bar was standing there in shock, halfway through cleaning a glass. The man's friends looked at Sam with fear, before grabbing their fallen comrade and dragging him out of the bar. Sam waited until the door closed behind them before he turned to the girl.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. The girl just nodded numbly, placing the glass down on the bar and filling it with beer.

"On the house," she said faintly, pushing it towards Sam. He thanked her and took it, going back to sit down at the table. Sam caught a glimpse of Dean at the pool table, who had obviously missed the entire ordeal and was still acting drunk. He had a pile of cash in front of him. 

Sam glanced around the room again, noticing the group in the corner. One of them - a short man with dark blonde hair - was staring intently at him, as if trying to place something. He was mostly in shadows, but even from across the room Sam could see his eyes glowed gold. The man raised an eyebrow at Sam, nodding his head towards the bar as if to say, _care to tell me what just happened?_ Sam shrugged slightly, and the man smiled. It was a weird smile, but Sam liked it. 

"I'm back," Dean announced, sitting down heavily next to Sam. "Got a few hundred dollars from those idiots. Also, when I got there they were talking about a revolution. Seems you were right, little bro."

Dean ruffled Sam's hair, and Sam ducked out of the way quickly, smoothing his hair down again and giving Dean a distrustful glance.

"You're a jerk."

"Yeah, well you're a bitch."

Sam rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. "How pissed were they when you scammed them?"

"Ah, they'll get over it," Dean said, leaning back in his chair. "Nobody can stay mad at someone who's this sexy."

"Bold words coming from someone who's not nearly as sexy as he thinks," a new voice said, and Sam looked up to see the man from before, standing in front of their table with an amused smirk on his face.

"And who are you?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Gabriel Shurley," the man replied, glancing at Sam and winking. "Heard you boys were talking about the revolution."

"Yeah, against the British," Sam said, leaning against the table. "Which side you on?"

"America's, obviously," Gabriel said, snorting. "Like I'd take orders from those tea-drinking bastards."

Sam bit his lip to keep from smiling, looking down at the table. He saw Dean glance at him suspiciously before Gabriel spoke again.

"My buddies and I are actually thinking of joining the army, helping to fight," Gabriel said. "You two interested?"

Sam looked over at Dean, who seemed to be concentrating hard on something. Sensing that Dean didn't like Gabriel in the slightest and was going to be petty about it, Sam spoke up again.

"Sounds good," he said, ignoring Dean's outraged look in his direction. Gabriel perked up, giving Sam that grin again. 

"Okey dokey," he chirped. "Follow me, boys."

Gabriel turned and trotted off back to his table, and Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's expression as he got up. Dean stayed seated, glaring at his younger brother as if he'd just insulted everything he cared about.

"Oh knock it off, Dean," Sam said, clapping his brother on the back. "Chicks dig army dudes."

"Only for the chicks," Dean muttered, standing up and following Sam sullenly to the table. The other occupants were a dark-haired man with striking blue eyes, a couple of blonde boys who looked around eighteen, and a tall man with pale eyes.

"Lads, these are my men in arms," Gabriel said cheerfully. "Castiel, Alfie, Adam and Balthazar."

"I'm Sam, and that's Dean," Sam said, jerking his thumb behind him to where Dean was still sulking. "He's always like this. Don't take it personally."

The pale-eyed man - Balthazar - chuckled and took a long drink from his glass. "No worries. Cassie was like that as well."

"Be quiet, Balthazar," the dark-haired man muttered - he must have been Castiel. "Just because you were an aristocrat Brit does not mean you are any better than the rest of us."

Balthazar shrugged, ruffling the other man's hair. Castiel pushed his hand away, looking ruffled. Sam glanced over at Dean, who was looking at Castiel with interest. Sam caught Gabriel's eye, and the other man grinned and clapped him on the back.

"So, you boys want to drink?"

"May as well," Sam replied, sitting down beside Gabriel. "We just moved here, actually."

"Where from?" the smaller blonde boy asked curiously. 

"London," Dean replied, still looking at Castiel. "We've been kept there as prisoners for... what, Sammy, twenty years?"

"Seventeen," Sam corrected. "You were six when we got taken."

"Well, Balth here ran away from his home in the countryside of England a few years ago and ended up here," Gabriel said. "Castiel and I grew up on the streets here, Alfie was a slave for a while, and Adam busted him out when they met down at a market."

Adam and Alfie looked away, blushing faintly, and Balthazar wiggled his eyebrows.

"And somehow they still haven't gotten past first base," he sang.

"We're not dating," the taller of the two muttered.

"Exactly, Adam," Balthazar said in exasperation. 

"Okay, so how did you guys get here if you were being held prisoner?" Alfie spoke up, still blushing furiously.

"Smuggled ourselves onto a slave ship," Sam said, wincing. "Arrived a few hours ago. We were on that ship for over a month."

"And yet you're still flawless," Gabriel said, winking at him. Sam looked away, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. Dean cleared his throat, looking rattled.

"So, are we going to get drunk or what?"

Balthazar chuckled, raising his glass. "Now you're talking my language."

 

 

Three hours later, and they were all pretty drunk.

Adam was blinking dopily as Alfie slept on his shoulder, Castiel was talking about bees to a raptured Dean, Baltazar was dancing on the bar top and Sam was talking to Gabriel about law and how even if they did win the war, the political party would be completely off balance. Gabriel was just trying to pay attention. Suddenly Balthazar got off the bar and stumbled back to the table, standing up on a chair instead. Sam absentmindedly thought about what would happen if he fell off.

"Fellow revolutionaries!" Balthazar slurred, holding out his arms. "We are now men in arms, brothers. We are all going to war tomorrow!" Balthazar cried, and everyone at the table gave a collective yell of celebration. "Those British bastards will never know what hit them!"

" _You're_ British, Balthazar!" Castiel called out.

"Put a sock in it, Cassandra!" Balthazar yelled back. "We will conquer!"

With that, he passed out and fell off the chair, hitting the ground with a thump.

"We should probably take him home," Sam said. Everyone murmured their agreement and dragged Balthazar out.

"Why are you joining the revolution?" Sam asked Gabriel quietly as they walked. The streets were quieter than before, the majority of people would have already gone home for the night. Gabriel sighed, hanging his head.

"My mom was killed by someone high up in the British Men Of Letters," Gabriel said, his face grim. "I was four."

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured. "My mother was killed, too. And my father died from disease."

"How did you even get away from them?" Gabriel asked. "It's near impossible. Balthazar told me."

"They didn't care about us much," Sam replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'll bet it took them a few days to realise we weren't in our cells."

"And by the time they realised you were long gone," Gabriel murmured, and Sam hummed his agreement. "I'm glad you landed here, then."

"Why?"

Gabriel looked sideways at him, a small smile on his face.

"Because you're just like me."


	2. Here Comes The General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Bradbury was nothing like Sam expected, and everything at the same time.

Sam wasn't actually expecting the army to be so peaceful. It beat living in a slave ship or a dirty cell, anyway.

A couple of days after he and Dean had met up with Castiel, Balthazar, Adam, Alfie and Gabe, they'd all signed up to fight and had been off to the base camp the next week. Nobody had actually met their commanding officer yet, but there were rumours spreading around. His name was Charlie Bradbury, he was from Virginia, and apparently one time he'd taken on a group of Men Of Letters and had reduced them all to near incapacitation in under a minute. 

"Yo Samsquatch, the General wants to see you," Gabriel said, randomly walking into the room. Sam looked up from his place on the bed, frowning.

"Why?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Hell if I know. She's cryptic."

"Wait, I thought the General was a guy," Sam said in surprise. Gabriel shrugged again.

"So did I, but she's about the least manly as they get," Gabriel said, a small smirk on his face. "The only thing that she really has in common with guys is that she digs chicks."

Sam blinked, then decided it wasn't even worth questioning. He got off the bed and started walking towards the General's tent, with Gabriel trotting along beside him.

"What do you think she wants to see me for?" Sam asked nervously. 

"I dunno," Gabriel replied. "The only thing I can think of is that you're in trouble, but you haven't done anything wrong."

"That's what I'm thinking," Sam muttered, stopping at the tent. He looked back at Gabriel, who smiled at him. Sam's heart fluttered.

"You'll be fine," Gabriel said confidently, reaching up to pat Sam's arm. Sam managed a weak smile back before he opened the flap and walked inside the tent.

It was a lot bigger on the inside than it looked. There was a large bed in the corner, and a desk in the middle of the room with a young woman sitting behind it. She was glaring down at a map on the desk, her red hair held back with a pencil. She looked up when Sam entered and stood up, a friendly yet forced smile on her face.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Uh, I'm Sam Winchester," Sam said, feeling unsure. "You sent for me?"

The woman's face lit up, and she grinned a lot wider than before. "Oh, good! I'm General Charlie Bradbury." 

She held out her hand, and Sam shook it hesitantly. For some reason, he was really unsure about this lady. There was something about her that was... freaky. Maybe it was the quiet confidence that she seemed to radiate, or the way she stood as if she couldn't be harmed. 

"What do you want me for, General?" Sam asked politely. 

"You know that the revolution is here, and it's getting ugly really quick," Charlie commented, the smile wiped from her face.

"Yes?" Sam said nervously. For some reason, this lady terrified him.

Charlie took the pencil out of her hair and raked the red locks back from her face, turning back towards the desk and stabbing the pencil into the wood. Sam would forever deny the fact that he almost hit the roof.

"The British are slowly approaching," she growled. All trace of the cheerful woman from before was gone. "Every time we try and attack, the men keep fleeing. There are too many of them, and we can barely match their manpower, let alone their weaponry and battle plans. The rest of our country is barely helping, and we don't have the supplies for our army."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sam asked shakily. Charlie turned to him, a steely look in her eyes.

"Because I need help. I need lots of help. I can't manage this entire army on my own. Congress has decided to send us less than half the supplies we need, and every time we go into battle the troops run," Charlie said, stabbing the pencil again and again into the wood with every syllable. "I may be a general, but that doesn't mean I'm the best with battle plans. I need someone to help me." She looked at Sam, her mouth set in a thin line. "I need _you,_ Sam Winchester."

Sam looked at her for a few seconds, trying to process everything. He had heard stories of soldiers fleeing battles, and Congress not helping with the supplies that they needed, but nothing like _this._ Behind the strong gleam in her eyes, Charlie looked terrified. It was then that Sam realised something. She was just a kid - barely older than he was. Maybe even younger than him. He had no idea how she'd become a general so young, but he was willing to bet that she was even more incredible than the stories told.

"But why me?" Sam found himself saying. "I'm nothing special."

A small smile made itself known on Charlie's face. Sam liked it better when she smiled - it scared him when her face contorted into that fierce look from before. 

"I've heard stories about you, Sam," she said knowingly. "You and your brother were held captive for years in England, but you managed to escape to here a few months ago. Your brother Dean is hot-headed and barges into things without thinking, and although he is an incredible fighter, I believe you are far more suited for the job. You _think._ Your writing's like nothing I've ever seen before, and I know for a fact that many people have wanted to hire you."

"As a secretary? Hell no," Sam scoffed, feeling that curl of frustration in his gut. "I'm here to fight, not to write."

"I know how you feel," Charlie said gently. "I was just like you before I became a General." Her face darkened, and she turned away. "Then one day, I was out on patrol. The British were planning an attack, and I wanted to be on the front line. When I was gone, a fire started in my house. My fiancée was trapped under a burning log. When we found her body, it was nothing more than blackened bones and some singed dark hair."

Charlie turned away, and Sam saw a tear make its way down her cheek. 

"If I hadn't been out, if I'd only stayed at home and done work there instead of putting myself out, I would have been able to save her."

Sam stayed silent, hearing the heartbreak in Charlie's voice. He was reminded of his father. Charlie looked back at him, not bothering to wipe the tear from her cheek. She didn't care, he realised. She was so steady, so _confident_ that she didn't even hide when she showed emotion. She was the best the army would ever get. He steeled himself and looked her dead in the eye.

"Tell me what we need."

Charlie's face spread into a slow smile before she ushered him to the table and threw everything off it, slamming the map down on top.

"We're completely outnumbered and outgunned," she said, motioning towards the little x's she'd drawn. "Here are where the British camps are - they completely surround us. Every time we try and attack, they cut us down. We need leaders - people who can keep the troops together and in line without hesitation."

"I know people," Sam said immediately. "Dean may not be a good person for battle plans, but he's good at following orders. There's also Castiel - he manages to keep Dean in order. Adam and Alfie are good with weapons - Adam worked as a blacksmith for a while, and Alfie's mother was a gun maker. He knows how to assemble a working pistol from a pile of scraps."

"We should get a spy into the British forces," Sam continued. "Someone who they're going to trust. If there's a spy, we'll be able to figure out their moves before they make them."

"And who do you think is best for the job?" Charlie asked, scribbling frantic notes onto the sides of the map.

"Balthazar," Sam said immediately. "He grew up in England. He knows the traditions, the food, how people act, hell, he's even got the accent."

"So we send Balthazar in to gather information," Charlie muttered under her breath. "I should send more people in, just in case. Garth Fitzgerald, Rowena Macleod…"

Charlie kept muttering names under her breath, writing them down on the sides of the map.

"And we need to write to Congress," Sam said, making as many mental notes as he could. "Tell them that we need more supplies, more men, more of everything."

"I want you on that," Charlie said immediately. "You're one of the best we've got. Do you know anyone else that could help you?"

"Gabriel," Sam said immediately, blushing at Charlie's raised eyebrow. "He's… he makes things easier."

"Mhmm," Charlie said, her eyes twinkling. "I need you to grab Dean and Castiel for me, as well as Adam and Alfie. Talk to Gabriel, rally the troops, and fill Balthazar in." She twirled the pencil back into her hair, her eyes sparkling. "It's time to hunt some Brits."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the delay. I've got so much inspiration and stuff, but only for the later chapters. I know that this one was short and badly written, but I'm sleep deprived and just wanted to write. It'd be great if you could point out any errors I might have made while writing this. Anyway, hope you enjoy!


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